


an honest mistake

by disgruntledkittenface



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: American AU, Baker Harry, Flirting, Fluff, M/M, Meet-Cute, Misunderstandings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-24
Updated: 2019-01-24
Packaged: 2019-10-15 17:08:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17532815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/disgruntledkittenface/pseuds/disgruntledkittenface
Summary: “You look different when you’re not covered in come,” he blurts out, immediately regretting each and every life choice that has led to this exact moment. Elevator Guy is going to hate him.Louis has ridden the elevator with his neighbor all week. The first time they speak, there’s a misunderstanding.Based on thisprompt.





	an honest mistake

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you [FullOnLarrie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FullOnLarrie/pseuds/FullOnLarrie/) for posting this very inspiring prompt and [ Kim](https://archiveofourown.org/users/KimmieRocks/pseuds/crinkle-eyed-boo) and [ Nic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/YesIsAWorld/pseuds/YesIsAWorld) for beta’ing this for me!

Harry winces as the chime announcing the arrival of the elevator cuts through his bleary-eyed exhaustion. He shuffles inside and manages to press the button for his floor before leaning all of his weight against the back wall.

Fuck, he’s so tired he could cry. In fact, he’s surprised he’s not already. Wait, he’s not crying, is he? Harry blindly pats at his face, smacking himself harder than he meant to but at least his cheeks are dry. Opening the eyes he’d rested for a moment, Harry spots a light dusting of flour across one of them in the mirrored doors in front of him. Oh, well. Still dry.

He can’t say the same for the rest of him. Harry closes his eyes again to avoid the sight of himself; he’s usually very neat at work, he wears an apron and keeps a spare dish towel in his back pocket for quick cleanups. But this week of covering the night shift is already killing him. He’s not even sure how he managed to smear egg whites from the meringues on his pants, and the brush he’d been using for sugar glaze had dropped from his clumsy, two-in-the-morning hands and coated the hem of his shirt. 

Whose bright idea was it anyway to have black pants and t-shirts as the uniform in the kitchen of a bakery? They show absolutely everything; Harry’s nightmare shift is painted all over him. 

Harry takes a few deep, cleansing breaths, not wanting laundry to be the thing that tips him over the edge into a hysterical sobbing mess. At least, not until he gets to his apartment. 

The elevator groans to a stop and Harry opens his eyes hopefully, but it’s not at his floor yet. The doors slide open to reveal a guy about his own age, pretty with caramel hues in his brown hair. Harry clamps his eyes shut like a toddler pretending that if he can’t see the cute guy, then the cute guy can’t see him. He’s pretty sure caramel is somewhere in the mix of ingredients currently covering him, he can smell it on himself. Maybe it got under his hairnet, maybe they both have caramel hair. 

The elevator finally,  _ finally _ reaches Harry’s floor and he pushes off the wall, smiling at his own joke. Well, not really a joke. But Harry thinks it’s funny anyway. He blushes when he catches sight of the cute guy giving him a funny look, probably wondering what Harry’s laughing to himself about. Harry gives him a quick nod and then – he’ll never be sure why exactly, his only excuse is the exhaustion – like an absolute idiot, he gives him a little two-fingered salute before exiting the elevator. 

Clearly he’s not fit to be around humans, so Harry hustles down the hall in search of his apartment. He has a date with his bed. 

*

Louis shakes his head as the guy exits the elevator after giving him an adorable little two-fingered salute. He’d probably noticed Louis staring. In his own defense, Louis had tried not to but you don’t see too many walks of shame on Monday mornings. So he’s just not used to seeing gorgeous, curly-haired guys covered in come in the elevator first thing at the start of the week. 

Like, a lot of come too. He hopes the guy didn’t think he was judging him; if anything, Louis is impressed. His mind wanders to some interesting places as he waits for the elevator to deliver him to Zayn’s floor, places he’ll have to revisit later in the privacy of his own home. For now, he has a hairless cat to feed while his friend is out of town. 

*

All week, Louis dutifully takes the elevator up to Zayn’s apartment twice a day to feed the cat. And all week, he sees the same guy, the same gorgeous face, the same curly hair, the same come-stained clothes, in the elevator in the morning. 

He’s always tired; Louis would be half asleep against the wall of the elevator too if he were getting half as much action as this guy clearly is. Sadly, Louis spends his weeknights at home watching  _ Great British Bake-Off _ and, lately, fantasizing about the guy from the elevator and his puffy pink lips and rich brown curls and long, lean body. So, tragically, he is quite well rested in the mornings. 

Zayn gets back on Friday night, sending Louis a Snap of a happy, purring Dobby and an invite over for takeout the next night to say thank you, which Louis graciously accepts. He fully intends to guilt Zayn into another meal or two, like the cat-sitting had been a hardship when he’s secretly grateful for the early hour feedings that had introduced him to Elevator Guy. Louis is tempted to ride the elevator on Saturday morning just to see him again, but that feels a little like actual stalking so he forces himself to stay on his couch with his cup of coffee. 

After a lazy Saturday in front of the TV, Louis throws on jeans, a simple white t-shirt and a brown jacket, just in case Zayn’s planning on dragging him out for dinner. He pockets his phone, wallet and keys and heads down the hall to the elevator. After pressing the button, he stands back to wait, already disappointed that he won’t be seeing Elevator Guy.

The bell chimes and the doors slide open and Louis is gobsmacked: There he is. There’s his Elevator Guy, still leaning against the back wall but looking awake and alert.

And somehow  _ not _ covered in come?

Louis recovers after a moment and walks in, pressing the button for Zayn’s floor and then checking out Elevator Guy in the mirror. Gone is his clubbing uniform of black pants and t-shirt, and in its place are baggy (like downright droopy) trousers and a simple white shirt topped with an ugly tan cardigan that even Louis’ grandpa would give to Goodwill. Pink socks peek out between the trousers and the off-white loafers on his feet. There’s a dark gray, kind of newsboy cap in his hands and Louis gulps as he watches the guy’s long fingers fiddle with it. 

He stands stiffly as he catalogs each new piece of information, trying to think of something,  _ anything _ to say.

“You look different when you’re not covered in come,” he blurts out, immediately regretting each and every life choice that has led to this exact moment. Elevator Guy is going to  _ hate _ him.

“What?” Elevator Guy splutters, blushing beet red and threatening to strangle his hat with his clenched hands. “What… I don’t…  _ covered–” _

“I’m sorry,” Louis exclaims, turning to face Elevator Guy. It’s the least he can do, apologize to his face and not his reflection. “I’m so sorry! That just came out, I didn’t mean to say it.”

“But, what… um, covered in – what are you  _ talking _ about?”

And somehow the guy looks even more embarrassed than Louis currently feels, and Louis wishes the elevator floor would open up and swallow him whole. He always jokes around and makes fun of his friends, but he was raised better than to slut shame gorgeous strangers in elevators.

“I’m so sorry,” he says again. “I just, um… I’ve ridden the elevator with you every morning this week when you’re on your way home from whatever it is that you did the night before, which is  _ none of my business, _ I can’t believe I just said that.”

“Whatever it is that I did?” Elevator Guy furrows his brow and purses his lips and his befuddled expression combined with his grandpa clothes is somehow even more attractive to Louis than his early morning, exhausted god of sex look, and Louis is in  _ trouble, _ especially since this guy is about to hate him if he doesn’t already.

“I have no right to judge!” Louis rushes to say, wishing he could pat the guy’s arm but realizing it’s probably best if he doesn’t. “You’re just this cute guy I kept seeing coming home covered in come every morning and I noticed is all, I mean, I’m sorry but anyone would notice, and you look different today, more awake for one–”

Louis is interrupted by a loud, honking laugh. Elevator Guy claps a hand to his mouth but Louis can still see the pink tinge to his cheeks and the sparkle in his light green eyes.

Light green eyes with gold flecks. How does this guy keep getting even more attractive?

“So you thought,” Elevator Guy starts, a wicked grin taking over his face. “You thought that I was coming home with come all over my clothes?” 

“Um, yes,” Louis says, unable to help his own grin. “Like, a lot of come. An impressive amount of come, well done.”

“Oh my god,” the guy says, running a hand through his luscious curls. “No! I’m a  _ baker, _ I work at a  _ bakery. _ That was like eggs and sugar and stuff on me. I swear.”

The elevator doors pop open and the guy’s face falls as he gestures vaguely toward the hallway. Louis’ heart jumps into his throat as he realizes the guy might be disappointed they’re being cut short. Maybe the guy doesn’t hate him after all.

“Can I, um,” Louis says, brushing his hair off his forehead. “Can I walk you to your door?”

“Yeah,” the guy smiles warmly. “Least you can do after accusing me of being some kind of floozy.”

Louis is about to protest, and loudly (who says ‘floozy’ these days, what an absolute grandpa), when the guy winks at him.

“But at least you said I was cute,” he says offhandedly, waiting for Louis to follow him into the hallway. “Or am I not cute now that I don’t have come on me? Sorry, now that I’m not ‘covered in come?’”

Louis cackles, delighted to find out the guy’s sense of humor is a match for his own.

“Well, Curly,” he says as they walk down the hall. “As it turns out, apparently I’ve never seen you covered in come.”

“Would you like to?” The guy’s face goes from confident and assured, maybe a little cocky but in a good way, to mortified in a matter of seconds. He blushes furiously. “Oh, god, I’m sorry, I’ve ruined this, haven’t I–”

“Not at all,” Louis says smoothly. He stops and turns to face the guy, patting his arm to reassure him and begrudgingly noting how soft the ugly cardigan is. “And to answer your first question, yes, still cute. Very.”

The guy looks up at him hopefully.

“And as for your second question,” Louis continues, “How about dinner first? Oh, and a name. A name would be good.”

The blush starts to creep down the guy’s neck. “’M Harry.”

“Nice to meet you, Harry. I’m Louis.”

“Louis.” Harry rolls his name around his mouth, trying it out, and the pleased look on his face tells Louis he likes it. “So, Louis. Dinner?”

“Why, thank you, Harold, I’d be delighted.”

“I’m just down here,” Harry says, jerking a hand behind him. “I can cook? Unless you’d rather do this another night, then–”

“No!” Louis rushes to interrupt. “No, tonight is perfect. Lead the way.”

He follows Harry down the hallway, taking his phone out and texting Zayn to cancel their plans for takeout. His heart races at the night’s sudden possibility: a date with a gorgeous guy. Who has the same sense of humor as him and is inexplicably hot in grandpa garb. And wants to  _ cook _ for him. 

“Coming?” Harry asks over his shoulder from where he’s unlocked his apartment door.

Louis looks up at his spur-of-the-moment date, grinning as Harry’s innocent expression melts into a smirk. Oh, and there’s that possibility, too. 

“Now, now, Curly,” Louis chides, pocketing his phone. “Dinner first, remember? What do you take me for, some kind of floozy?”

“Hopefully.” Harry laughs at Louis’ indignant squawk, holding his hands up in surrender. “But a cute one!”

Harry looks Louis up and down, leaving him a little flushed and very glad he changed out of the t-shirt and joggers he’d been lounging in all day before leaving the apartment, and his smirk softens to a warm smile.

“A very cute one.” 

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading!! [ fic post](https://disgruntledkittenface.tumblr.com/post/182939187277/an-honest-mistake-by-disgruntledkittenface-you)


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